


My Kingdom For Your Heart

by Laziam (MItCheLlInE)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fantasy, Game of Thrones AU, GoT, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, ziamficexchange2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MItCheLlInE/pseuds/Laziam
Summary: Prince Zayn of House Targaryen was forced to marry the new Khal of the Dothraki horde. But he couldn't have imagined the dangers and surprises ahead in his wildest dreams.





	My Kingdom For Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhHarold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhHarold/gifts).



> My Dear Recipient
> 
> Thank you so much for giving me this prompt. It was the first time I have written in the past tense and a more formal language. I hope you like it :)
> 
> I have taken great liberties with the source material so this is not even remotely canon compliant. 
> 
> This is the prompt: 
> 
> Game of thrones au where Zayn is daeneyrs and liam is Khal drogo but like not death for them because i like a happy ending :)
> 
> (Bottom Zayn if there's dirty bits!)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks a million to my amazingly wonderful beta Sarah. You're the best. xx
> 
> Let me know what you think x

“I’m not doing it.”

The words were steel, hard and unbending, but tinged with warmth because they were directed to his beloved older sister. “You always say that slavery is barbaric, yet here you are, selling your brother to the highest bidder.” In a defiant gesture, Prince Zayn swept his dark fringe out of his eyes and glared. 

“Zaynie, please… I can’t see any other way. This is our last hope.” In sharp contrast to her younger brother’s speech, Princess Doniya’s voice was soft, pleading, and she was close to tears as she rushed over to him, before hugging him tightly.

Zayn briefly allowed the embrace, then wriggled away and went to perch on the corner of the marble top table that dominated the room. After a silence that stretched too long, Zayn put into words the secret worry that had been niggling at him ever since the marriage pact was made. “What if he doesn’t want me?” he asked, a slight tremor now present in his voice. 

“That’s unlikely to happen. Your beauty is legendary in all of the Seven Kingdoms, as you well know. Just try not to be too stroppy and remember that your sacrifice guarantees all of our people their freedom and safety. You’ll be a hero, brother.” 

When Zayn scoffed, Doniya looked crestfallen, and it hurt Zayn to be responsible for causing her pain, however minor. “I know,” he relented, “and I suppose it’s our good fortune that this Khal Lima, or whatever his name is, doesn’t favour the fairer sex.” 

A small, hopeful smile appeared on Doniya’s face. “Yes, I think this is meant to be. The Dothraki Kingdom is the only one that doesn’t establish their next ruler via birthright. They let their young men compete in trials of strength, bravery and wit to determine who will be Khal.” 

“Unexpectedly civilised for a race of primitive nomads,” Zayn huffed. He knew that his petulance was hurting his sister, but he was angry and he was scared. Being married off to a man he’d never even met was not what he had planned for his life. Given the choice, he wouldn’t be wed at all.

Doniya sat down next to him, resting her hand on his forearm. “We need a powerful ally to get our land and our armies back. You and I are all that’s left of House Targaryen. When the Lannisters murdered our parents and took everything from us, bar this castle, they thought we would jump at the chance to surrender and for you to marry Princess Myrcella.”

“Never!” Zayn jumped up, his hands balled into fists. One day, he would kill every one of the Lannisters and if it took a marriage to a barbarian to accomplish that, then so be it.  
“If only I could bear children,” Doniya sobbed, grasping the flowing skirt of her silky dress.  
“I would gladly take this burden off your shoulders, but I am useless because no future king is going to take a barren woman as his wife.”

“Shhh… don’t talk like that.” Zayn soothed. “We are Targaryens, and we won’t capitulate. I will do what’s expected of me and in return, the Dothraki army will annihilate the king and the whole fucking Lannister clan.” 

Zayn delivered the words with a lot more conviction than he felt, but he had to be strong for Doniya and for the kingdom that was rightfully theirs. It broke his heart having to leave Castle Dragonstone and his sister behind without knowing if he could ever return. Looking around the great hall, he tried to memorize every part of it, from the beautifully decorated columns to the large tapestries, depicting the three great dragons who represent the legends surrounding the former might of House Targaryen. 

Doniya came to stand beside him. “You have no idea how much I wish the ancient stories were true,” she said.

“About the Dragonlord?”

“Yes, so many of our people believe in it.”

“They’re fairy tales, Doni. We’re running out of possible contenders, which means I have to get fucked by some savage brute to save the day.” 

“No need to be crude, little brother. You’ve been brought up better than that,” Doniya said, smoothing down Zayn’s silk tunic. “Besides, the rumours we hear could be vastly exaggerated.” 

“You hold to that thought if it eases your conscience,” Zayn mumbled, brushing her hands away. “And now, I believe I can hear horses approaching. Let’s go outside and save our heritage.”

Zayn took his sister by the hand, and together they stepped through the grand portal to face what lay ahead.

*****

Zayn’s stomach was locked tight with dread as he stood halfway down the sweeping staircase, watching the group of Dothraki riders come up the tree-lined path towards the castle. An older man, flanked by two younger ones, led the small procession. Raising his hand, he ordered the soldiers to halt at the bottom of the stairs. During the long, unpleasant silence that followed, all eyes were trained on Zayn. 

Eventually, Princess Doniya spoke. “I am Doniya Malik of House Targaryen, and I hope your journey has not been too gruelling. My brother and I are honoured to welcome the fearless warriors of the Dothraki army to Castle Dragonstone.”

Zayn wanted to scream, but he knew he had to contain his rage if he was ever to see the death of his parents avenged. And so he pressed his lips together while studying the two younger riders at the front. The one on the left of the leader scrutinised him out of beady eyes, a sadistic grin on his lips, causing Zayn to shudder. 

Please god, let him not be the new Khal. Zayn fleetingly considered some drastic action if that should turn out to be the case.

The eldest warrior regarded Doniya out of cold eyes before he barked, “We are not here to exchange pleasantries. I am Simon. My brother was the last Khal, and he asked me on his deathbed to advise Liam until he is married and can take command of the Kingdom.”

Zayn felt like jumping for joy, despite his precarious situation, when Simon gestured to the young man on his right, thereby identifying him as Zayn’s husband to be. He was certainly handsome, dressed in the same leather vest and horsehair leggings as the rest of the riders, with the same dark hair and copper skin. But there was something that set him apart from the others, something in his dark brown eyes that Zayn couldn’t quite identify. 

“Answer me, boy,” Simon’s voice cut through Zayn’s musings. “Are you a virgin?”

Zayn could feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment. What he wouldn’t have given for the step underneath him to open up and let him sink into the cold earth below; it might be a more palatable fate than the one presented to him now. Barely maintaining his composure, he nodded, unable to make eye contact with that intimidating man. All he wanted was for this spectacle to be over, but luck was not on his side.

“Remove your tunic,” was the next command Simon hurled at him. 

Zayn knew he could ill afford to be obstinate, but he decided to put up one last fight regardless.

“No,” he said indignantly, pushing his bottom lip out.

Simon’s face resembled a grotesque mask. “For your pitiful sister’s sake I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he growled. ”Now, take it off. You have wasted enough of my time.”

This was utter humiliation. Zayn might not possess any riches or an army, but his name still stood for pride and honour, and as he reluctantly removed his shirt, both of these things were stripped away.

Simon let his eyes wander over Zayn’s exposed body before addressing the beady-eyed man. “What do you think of your future Khal’s intended husband, James?”

“He hasn’t got any meat on his bones and is not someone I would have picked, father, but he is pretty; I give him that,” James cackled. “The thing he clearly lacks is obedience. Hopefully, Liam’s dick will pound that into him.”

So that was his son. Zayn wasn’t even remotely surprised as they obviously shared the same demonic features and passion for cruelty.

“We will see about that tomorrow. Come, boy, join the Khal on his horse.” Simon gestured impatiently towards Zayn. 

As far as Zayn knew, the wedding was supposed to take place three days later, which left him wondering what would happen the next day. Up until that point, he had harboured a small flicker of hope that an alternative solution could have been found, but when he turned to look at his sister, that flicker was extinguished for good. The empty expression in her eyes told him that there was no way out. After a last desperate hug, he shrugged on his tunic and walked over to the Khal with as much dignity as he could muster. 

*****

To his horror, none of the Dothraki riders used a saddle; Zayn had never ridden without one. How was he meant to join his future husband if he couldn’t even mount the horse? Either to ease his concern or prove his own great strength, Khal Liam reached down, pulling Zayn up behind him as if he weighed nothing. Against his will, Zayn was a tiny bit impressed, but only for a second because now a new problem presented itself. He didn’t want to cling on to Liam like a helpless child any more than he wanted to risk falling off the huge stallion. He resolved to tentatively put his hands on Liam’s hips, otherwise keeping as much distance between their bodies as possible. 

After riding for a couple of hours, Zayn’s back and leg muscles started to cramp, but he was nothing if not stubborn, and so he decided to confront Liam about the fact he had not uttered so much as a single word since they met. No greeting, no acknowledgement that he knew Zayn even existed. He deserved at least that much courtesy, didn’t he?

“You’re not a man of many words, are you?” Zayn asked, making no effort to conceal the sarcasm in his voice. He might as well have saved his breath, though, because Liam continued to stare stoically ahead. 

After a few more attempts at eliciting a response from his husband-to-be, Zayn gave up. What was the use anyway? His body ached terribly, and he was yearning to close his eyes for a little while, which was not possible if he wanted to keep up his rigid pose. Maybe he should just fling himself off the horse; that might catch Liam’s attention, he mused, but before he could give that more thought, a young rider slowed next to him.

“The Khal cannot speak. Talking to you ahead of the submission ceremony is bad luck,” he informed Zayn before cantering ahead. 

So the wedding was viewed as a submission ceremony? It really looked like the Dothraki were as primitive as their reputation suggested. 

“If you’re not allowed to talk to me, does that mean I can verbally abuse you, and you’ll do nothing about it?” Zayn regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth because Liam’s arm jerked backwards, elbowing him in the ribs. 

“Ouch! Apparently not, then,” Zayn gasped just as beady-eyed James appeared by his side.

“You better shut up. You’re a nothing right now, and bad things happen to those who can’t keep their big mouths shut,” he spat. 

“I honestly can’t remember asking for your advice… Or was that a threat?” Zayn spat back, itching to punch the guy in his objectively hideous face.

“There’s no need for me to threaten you. We’ll find out tomorrow what you’re made of.” Simon’s son threw him a leery smirk, then he sharply gave heel to his horse and rode off.

Why was everyone harping on about tomorrow? Zayn got the distinct impression that the next day wasn’t going to be a good one for him. 

The journey seemed interminable, with the sun beating down relentlessly as they rode through the endless grasses. The plain, which stretched out indefinitely, was flat and vast and reminded Zayn of an ocean. It felt foreign to him but beautiful at the same time. 

After hours trying his best to keep upright, exhaustion overtook him, and he slumped forward, moulding himself against Liam’s muscular back. Liam’s skin was hot and soft, smelling vaguely flowery and not at all like Zayn had expected. Perhaps if he tried to nap for a few minutes? Surely that wouldn’t be the worst thing? That theory proved to be a disaster as soon as both of his eyelids fell shut. He lost his balance and was about to slide off the horse, when Liam yanked both of Zayn’s hands off his hips, wrapping them around his waist and holding them firmly in place with one hand. Could it be that he actually cared about his soon-to-be husband? Or was he merely trying to protect his property? Either way, Zayn drifted off almost immediately, feeling unexpectedly safe in Liam’s grip. 

By the time they reached the camp, dusk had fallen. Zayn opened his gritty eyes, barely able to make out his new surroundings. There were about thirty tents scattered around with horses tethered to most of them. Dothraki soldiers sat by fires, drinking and laughing. As Liam reined in the stallion, the noise died and once again, Zayn found himself the centre of attention. The men stared at him openly—some with curiosity, some with thinly disguised hostility—but none of them dared to speak. 

Khal Liam dismounted, helping Zayn to do the same, which he counted as good fortune because his knees buckled as his feet touched the ground. Steadying him by grasping his upper arms, Zayn’s betrothed looked at him for the first time since they’d left the castle. 

It was difficult to say for sure in the dying light, but Liam’s eyes seemed to hold the same warm expression that Zayn thought he noticed back at Dragonstone. That being said, he could have imagined it and, in any case, he didn’t have the opportunity to further deliberate the matter, since Liam abruptly let go and strode away, leaving Zayn standing in the dust. 

Ordinarily, he would have called out to the other man and demanded to be treated with more respect, but it had been an exceedingly long day and he found there was no fight left in him. 

*****

“Hello… Prince Zayn, right?” a cheerful voice inquired. 

It belonged to a young man with fair hair and bright blue eyes, who, though he wore the same clothes as the other riders, was definitely not a Dothraki. The ruddy-cheeked man approached Zayn with a friendly smile, easing his annoyance by a small measure.

“I am, yes,” Zayn said, surprised to see a person with such colouring here. “And you are? I take it this is not your home?”

The man laughed out loud. “You got that one right. No points for working it out, though.” Then he added in a more serious tone, “I am Niall, your servant. Simon wanted someone else to do the job, but Khal Liam insisted. Come, I show you to your tent.”

They weaved their way between groups of staring soldiers to a tent that wouldn’t have looked any different to the others if it hadn’t been for the imposing guards flanking the entrance. Their weapons, hanging heavily from thick leather belts, looked menacing: a sort of cross between a sword and a scythe. 

“They don’t seem very welcoming,” Zayn said, taking a nervous step back. “Are you quite certain I’m meant to be here?”

“They’re nothing to worry about; let’s go inside,” Niall said, resting a gentle hand on Zayn’s shoulder. That made for two strangers who had shown him some kindness in the midst of the hostile horde, and he sent up a brief prayer of gratitude.

The servant led Zayn into a small but relatively cosy tent. Most of the space was occupied by pillows and fur throws, except for a wooden table in the middle and a large metal container on the far side. The curious vessel’s use was a mystery, but he had more pressing questions to pose to Niall, and soon, just in case he was about to be left here alone.

“Who put those soldiers there, Simon? I swear that man hates me.” Zayn huffed. “Where does he think I’m going to run off to, out here in the wilderness?”

Niall busied himself lighting the candles on the table. “It was Liam,” he said quietly. “And they aren’t there to imprison you; they have orders to keep everyone else out.”

“Who is everyone else?”

Pausing in his motions, Niall seemed to choose his next words carefully. “There are people here who would rather the Khal didn’t get married anytime soon.”

“What’s going on, Niall?” Zayn asked in a furtive undertone. “Liam pays me no attention, and the others treat me like shit. I thought they wanted me to marry him. If not, I’ll be happy to go home.”

Niall looked up from what he was doing, giving Zayn a tight-lipped smile. “You could have done worse. Liam is a good person; trust me on that. It’s only that, well… Simon thought his son would be the next Khal. James is just as good a fighter as Liam, but Liam outwitted him in all of the strategic tasks. Simon and James together are dangerous, and they have a good portion of the army behind them.”

“Well, isn’t that fantastic? Not only am I forced into this crude existence, but there are also people who want to kill me.” Zayn ran his hands down his face.

“Liam is going to do his best not to let that happen.”

“As if he gives half a fuck. He just needs me so he can take power.”

Niall gave him an odd look before a sympathetic smile spread across his face. “I think you are too pessimistic, which is probably down to the strenuous day you have had. I suggest you have some food and a calming bath. Perhaps you will feel more settled afterwards.”

Zayn couldn’t shake the feeling that Niall was trying to avoid expanding on the topic, but hunger gnawed at his stomach, and he felt as if dust had settled into every pore of his body, so he merely shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

True to his word, Niall swiftly had the ominous metal container filled with hot water to which he added a soothing lotion, thus causing a fragrant steam to rise from the tub. Two older men appeared seemingly out of nowhere, assisting Zayn out of his clothes and bathing his weary body expertly. They didn’t address him directly, but Zayn could see the shrewd glances they exchanged above his head. Everyone seemed to know something he didn’t, and his desire to find out what it was grew stronger with every passing moment.

The Dothraki men dressed him in a fresh trouser and tunic ensemble made of sand silk. The material was not as luxurious as the ones he was accustomed to, but it was comfortable enough. 

The bath was removed from the tent just as Niall entered with a tray of delicious smelling soup, crusty bread and some sort of fruit drink in an ornate decanter. He set it down on the table, putting a steaming bowl in front of Zayn, but when he picked it up, Niall threw his arms in the air.

“Stop—it’s too hot,” he warned.

Zayn looked at him in confusion while spooning the scalding liquid into his mouth.

“How… how can you do that?” Niall fretted, fisting his hands in his blond hair. “Let me see your hands.”

Zayn put the dish aside and turned his palms towards his concerned servant. “See? No harm was done. Come and join me; you must be hungry by now.”

“As you wish,” Niall said, his head bowed in deference as he took his seat on the pillow next to Zayn. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Zayn broke off a piece of bread, handing it to the young man. “So, how did you end up here?” he asked.

Niall gave him a measured look before he spoke. “I’m from the Reach. During a dispute, the Dothraki ransacked my village, and to avoid escalation, the wife of the Khal demanded to take me in exchange for the lives of my people. She was fascinated by my colouring; I was ten, and I have served the family of the Khal ever since.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Zayn said with genuine sympathy. 

“Don’t be,” Niall said. “My parents beat me daily, and because I was the youngest, I was fed the scraps—if there were any. Here, I always had enough to eat and was seldom mistreated. They even taught me how to read and write. Besides, I like to think I saved my village from obliteration.”

Zayn nodded thoughtfully. “In a way, you and I are not so different. We were both wrenched from our homes for a greater good.” After a sombre pause, he added, “Do you know why the wedding has been brought forward?”

“I am not sure what you are asking?”

“I have been informed by James that the ‘submission ceremony’ will take place tomorrow, and I presumed that he was talking about the wedding.”

Niall averted his eyes, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Ah, that,” he mumbled through a bite of his bread. He clearly knew more than he was ready to let on. 

“What do you know?” Zayn asked. 

Niall swallowed hard, forcing a fake smile on his lips. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with that, my Prince. Why don’t you retire for the night and get some well-deserved rest.”

Seeing right through Niall’s evasive behaviour, Zayn gripped his arm. “Tell me, now,” he demanded, eyes boring into Niall’s.

The young servant sighed heavily. “I would have preferred it if you didn’t have to face this until the time comes, but if you insist….”

Zayn glared at him. “I insist.”

Niall cleared his throat. “Tomorrow will be difficult for you. The soldiers will gather in the centre of the camp and watch the Khal—”

“Watch the Khal do what?”

Niall’s face took on a pinched expression. “Take you….”

A sense of dread closed around Zayn’s heart. “Take me? You mean…?”

Niall reached out, lightly squeezing Zayn’s shoulder. “Yes. It is one of the oldest Dothraki customs. The warriors will watch closely how you react, noting if you beg or scream or just endure it. The philosophy is that the Khal will reduce you to nothing, and then you can rise to his side and be accepted as one of their own. It’s savage, I know.”

An icy chill crept through Zayn’s body. “Explain what will happen when he… when he takes ownership of me,” he heard himself say in a small, thin voice.

“My Prince…”

“Please, Niall,” Zayn implored his companion.

Taking a deep breath, Niall did as Zayn requested. “The gathering will be at noon when you will be put into a plain gown, which the Khal will lift after he bends you over a large wooden block. You can imagine the rest.”

“He won’t look at me, even then?” Zayn asked, despairing. 

“No, the Dothraki mate like the horses they ride.”

Covering his face with his hands, Zayn used all of his willpower to suppress the rising nausea in his stomach. When he was sure that he had regained some of his composure he asked Niall to leave him alone to ponder his fate. 

He crawled under the soft fur throws, his mind whirling. He must see this through; he must avenge his parents, and he cannot fail Doniya. With these thoughts constantly running through his head, he tossed and turned for most of the night until he finally fell into a fitful sleep. 

*****

In the early hours of the morning, Zayn woke to the sound of his own screams. Sweat soaked his garments, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. He couldn’t remember ever having such a vivid dream before. There was intense heat from angry flames, licking around his body while he crouched on the floor, crying out words in a language he knew he didn’t speak. 

It took him quite some time to realise that he was not in any immediate danger, that it was just his mind playing nasty tricks on him. After fumbling around in the semi-darkness for a moment, he found the decanter which still contained some of the fruity drink. He gulped it down, soothing the raw feeling in his throat. He contemplated whether bypassing his guards to get some fresh air might be a possibility, when the flap of the tent opened, revealing a flustered Niall.

“My Prince… I heard your screams.”

“Don’t worry yourself. It was nothing more than a nightmare, albeit a realistic and disturbing one.” Zayn assured him. “Where were you that you were able to hear me?” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh, I sleep right outside—should you need me,” Niall replied with a good-natured grin, readying himself to leave the tent now that he had eased his concern.

Zayn gestured to the extensive array of blankets and pillows on the floor. “Please, stay here. It would comfort me greatly.”

Niall nodded, looking pleased with this prospect and proceeded to lie down, using none of the luxurious throws. Zayn smiled at the servant, who was such a source of solace to him in his current circumstances. 

With Niall nearby, he managed to get back to sleep and the next time he opened his eyes, the sun streamed through the cracks of his tent. Niall was folding the throws, bundling them with rope, ready for transport.

“Good morning. The time has come to prepare for the ceremony,” he said, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. 

For an instant, Zayn had forgotten all about the dreaded event, but now the severity of the situation came crashing down on him. 

“Would you like me to bring something to eat?” Niall enquired, holding out what was to be the attire for the worst day of Zayn’s life.

Zayn recoiled from the thought of food, shaking his head in disgust. “Just hand me that rag and leave,” he said, harsher than he intended.

Niall retreated, his head bowed, but not before Zayn noticed the apprehension flickering across his face. He knew that the servant deserved to be treated more kindly, but he was overwhelmed by hopelessness and couldn’t find the necessary grace to think about others. 

Zayn slipped into the sack-like robe, shivering despite the oppressive heat. He was thankful that Doniya was spared seeing him like this. The memory of his sister standing forlornly on the staircase of their home filled him with renewed resolve. He was more determined than ever to save her, and so he spent the time until Niall’s return reminiscing about happier days.

All too soon, the servant appeared, accompanied by two soldiers of Simon’s personal guard. With every step, the terror within Zayn grew, as they marched him towards the centre of the camp. The Dothraki riders formed a circle around the wooden block that Niall had mentioned, waiting for the exhibition of cruelty and degradation to begin. To the jeers of the crowd, Zayn was ordered to come closer, but his legs refused to move, and he kept his eyes to the ground, trying his best not to show them how terrified he was. 

“Go on...,” Niall whispered before he disappeared among the horde. 

Deciding that it was probably a good idea to heed his advice, Zayn stepped forward, letting his gaze wander. Simon was in the front row, a sardonic grin dominating his features. Next to him, his son regarded Zayn with a malicious sneer. 

“Ready for your initiation? Let’s see how much of your churlish tongue is left after this,” he mocked, his laugh sharp and vicious as the whip in his hand.

Sweat beaded on Zayn’s skin, trickling down his back. All he wanted to do was run and hide, but he just stood there, frozen. 

And then his eyes found Liam. The Khal’s face was devoid of expression; any warmth that might have lingered there the day before, long gone. 

Wordlessly grabbing Zayn and bending him face down over the block, his fingers dug painfully into Zayn’s arms. To the delight of the heckling onlookers, the Khal released him just to yank the robe up above his waist. Zayn suppressed a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. With his legs held apart, he had no physical defence against what was to come, and the barrier Zayn quickly erected around his heart only bought him a measure of fortitude. 

Splinters pierced his skin as Khal Liam pushed him into the wooden surface. Fearing for his sanity, he talked silently to himself. “I am Prince Zayn of House Targaryen. I will regain what is mine, and I will avenge my mother and father.”

Then, suddenly, the weight lifted off him, and alarmed shouts could be heard from the previously cheering crowd. Zayn didn’t have the courage to lift his head and remained pressed against the wood until Niall’s voice reached him through the commotion. 

“Come, my Prince, and let us return to your quarters.”

Zayn thought he must have gone mad after all. The bodily assault he’d been braced for hadn’t happened yet, and he had no idea why. 

“We have to go, now!” Niall urged, tugging impatiently at his sleeve.

Zayn rose unsteadily to his feet, still unable to comprehend that by some miracle, he had been spared. Pulling down his robe, he tried to establish what had saved him, and he didn’t have to look far. 

The Khal lay on the ground behind him, writhing in agony. His wan complexion and the foam forming on his lips didn’t indicate anything good. 

“What happened to him? Is it poison?” Zayn asked, staggering down the path behind a stone-faced Niall. He had seen enough people poisoned to be sure that’s what had befallen the Khal, though he knew neither how nor why. 

“Hurry,” Niall hissed at him, easily beating a path between the puzzled warriors.

They managed to cross the encampment without incident, but their good fortune ended when they reached their tent. Simon stood in the entrance, with his arms crossed and a face like thunder.

“You appear to be in a rush, Niall,” he snarled. “I would have thought you would want to be with Liam in his hour of need. What a coincidence that he was taken ill at that precise time; don’t you think?”

Niall squared his shoulders. “Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but my place as his servant is by Prince Zayn’s side. You, however, being a close family member, must be out of your mind with worry.” 

Simon balled his hands into fists. “My men serve tirelessly with little time for frivolity; this was to have been both a historic event and a bit of entertainment for the camp. If I find out that you had anything to do with this, you will wish that your whore of a mother had never brought you into this world.”

Zayn listened to the exchange with his heart in his throat. In his initial euphoria, he hadn’t considered how these new developments might affect his position or, most importantly, his quest for revenge. If the Khal were to perish, Zayn’s use to the Dothraki would be obsolete, and if what Niall said was true, it would almost certainly mean his death. Zayn shuddered at the thought of what Simon’s brutes might do to him before they ripped him limb from limb. Not to mention that Doniya would all at once lose her brother and her only hope of re-taking her rightful place in the Seven Kingdoms. 

Zayn was so immersed in his panic that he missed Niall’s reply to Simon’s insult, but whatever he said caused the furious man to shove the young servant to the floor and stalk away after throwing a hateful glare in Zayn’s direction. Niall sprung back to his feet before Zayn could extend a helping hand. Quite unperturbed, he dusted himself down and pulled Zayn into the now unguarded tent. 

Within the safety of the shelter, he let out an almighty sigh of relief. “I think we got away with it.”

Zayn couldn’t believe his ears. “How can you be so unconcerned? The Khal is dying, and for all we know, we could be next,” he said, unable to conceal the desperation in his voice.

“My Prince,” Niall said, awarding Zayn a benevolent and knowing smile. “He is not going to die, and all we have to do now is keep you safe until the morning after the wedding. From then onwards, Liam will be able to appoint someone new, who can look after things if anything happens to him. Simon will lose his power and with it the loyalty of his men. 

“Do you not understand that none of that will happen because Liam is dying, James will be his successor, and you and I will be dead. Why can you not see that?” Zayn shouted, his breath coming short and fast. 

Niall shook his head. “Stop your pacing and listen to me; Liam was not poisoned. Well, not fatally, anyway. I gave him some sour berries, just enough to mimic the symptoms of being poisoned for a few hours.” 

“Mimic the symptoms? Fuck, Niall, you put me through all that, knowing how petrified I was?” Zayn accused, his eyes wide in disbelief. 

“We had no choice.” Niall wrung his hands. “Your fear had to be undeniable and authentic. It was the only way to save you from that abject ritual while retaining the respect of the soldiers for Liam.”

“We? You mean the Khal was in on it?”

Niall nodded firmly. “Indeed, the diversion was his idea. After I had you settled last night, he sought me out, begging me to find a way around the ceremony.”

“But why? He has no reason not to take his due,” Zayn asked, still resentful and more bewildered than ever. 

“I am not privy to the particulars, but please be assured that Liam has a reason, which he will reveal in good time.”

“But for me to be accepted into the ranks, it still has to happen. So, sadly, it was all for nothing.” Zayn said, running trembling fingers through his hair. 

Niall seated himself beside Zayn, covering the prince’s forearm with a steady hand as if gentling a nervous horse. “The Dothraki people believe that if something unforeseen prevents the ceremony, it must be a sign from the gods. Liam surviving an apparent attempt on his life, and you being spared the shame, will strengthen his status as Khal and, by the same token, weaken Simon’s influence.”

Sniffling, Zayn worked to assimilate the information. He was relieved, of course, but inexplicably angry. “So, it was all solely for his benefit? I should have known. How could it have been anything else?”

Zayn couldn’t fathom why this information should trouble him so. Obviously, it had nothing to do with him. He was no more than a pawn in a dangerous game, and just because Liam pretended to be more lenient than his uncle, didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be every ounce as ruthless when he took power. Zayn was very clear about all of this in his mind, and yet, it saddened him. This train of thought must have been the reason for what he said next. 

“I want to talk to Khal Liam, and don’t lecture me about it being bad luck before the wedding, because you evidently don’t give a fuck about the rules.”

Niall regarded him with a bemused twinkle in his eyes. “Very well, however, we must go straight away. The mayhem outside will be advantageous for us, and there’s a good chance we’ll have you in and out unseen.”

“There is no time to waste, then,” Zayn said, one foot already outside. 

*****

The two of them scurried over to Liam’s tent, mindful of the prying eyes of Simon’s guards. 

Niall entered first, motioning Zayn to wait but before he could dwell on that, his servant emerged, accompanied by a pallid man with wispy hair. 

“This is Norias, the healer,” Niall said, pointing to the elderly man beside him. ”He is, shall we say, sympathetic to our cause, and he will inform the soldiers that the Khal’s recovery is quite a miracle.”

Inclining his head, the healer took his leave. 

“Go on in, my Prince. I will make sure that you are not disturbed.” Niall said.

Now that his wish had been granted, Zayn found it difficult to ignore the nerves that felt like they were eating a hole in the lining of his stomach. Taking a deep breath and holding it momentarily, he entered. 

The tent was filled with the smell of incense, mixed with whatever herbal potions the healer had administered to the patient. It took Zayn a second to adjust to the low light, but then he located the Khal on a raised bed made of layers of fur. His eyes were closed, and his body was covered up to the waist with a thin sheet; otherwise, he appeared to be naked. He also appeared to be heavily muscled and glossy with sweat, virile and vulnerable at the same time.

Presently, Zayn acknowledged that such observations were wholly inappropriate in context, and he considered that the entire idea to visit Liam might have been an error of judgment. 

However, before he could reach a decision, Liam stirred, propping himself up on one elbow and for the first time, Zayn heard his voice. It was soft and warm and in complete contrast to how Zayn had imagined it to be. 

“Zayn, I did not expect to find you here…. Please, come closer,” he said, a shadow of a smile ghosting around his lips, full and a bit lax. If he was still in pain, it didn’t show. 

Fascinated against his will, Zayn did as he was bidden. 

“I trust you approve of your servant, and that he has been looking after you adequately?” Liam asked, his expression sobering somewhat.

“Yes, my Khal, he has been of unmeasurable value to me.” Zayn had no idea if that was how he should address his future husband, but he decided to err on the side of caution and use his title. 

“Call me Liam. We will be joined before the great gods tomorrow, and you may as well use my given name.”

Zayn’s head jerked up. “Tomorrow?”

“I thought it best to bring the wedding forward. After today’s events, it is not safe to wait. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you,” Liam said, voice thick with determination. “Come and sit with me,” he added, patting a space beside him, which Zayn gingerly took. “So, why have you come?”

“I want to know, why didn’t you fuck me in front of your men today?” Zayn blurted out. “After all, it was your entitlement.”

Liam paused for a heavy moment. “After we were introduced, I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Zayn burst out laughing, cynical and a little stung. “Forgive me, but we were never introduced. You were silent, for reasons I now understand, and I was more or less abducted by that uncle of yours. And I don’t mind telling you, he is the vilest human being I have had the misfortune to come in contact with in all my life.” 

Turning his gaze away from Zayn, Liam sank back into his cushion. “You are stating the truth, and that is why I must marry you and become the leader I know I can be. I want to end this insufferable reign of tyranny, the plundering and the senseless slaughter,” he said, grimly.

“And does your plan include helping me to free my people from the oppression by the Lannisters?” Zayn asked, anxiously awaiting the reply. 

Appearing almost perplexed, Liam turned to face Zayn. “Of course; I always honour my promises, even if the deal was essentially brokered by my uncle.”

“Why was that exactly? Why me? Surely you could have found some other man, one who might have come with fewer demands, especially since having royal blood doesn’t seem to be a prerequisite to marry a Khal?”

“After my uncle first suggested finding a suitable husband for me and then became set on obtaining you…” Here Liam paused and winced at his choice of words, for all the world appearing to be a sensitive and tactful man. “...the chatter was primarily about your looks. I suspected the reports to be severely exaggerated, but I was mistaken. None of the descriptions did you justice. 

“At our introduction, I was glad that I wasn’t required to speak because I wouldn’t have been able to form a single word as I was dumbstruck with your divine beauty. Next, you openly challenged both Simon and James and my admiration for you grew immensely. And then, somewhere between Dragonstone and here, something occurred and I… I….” Liam’s expression had taken on a vacant quality as his words faded.

“Do you want to share the nature of the occurrence with me?” Zayn asked, marvelling at the level of Liam’s insightfulness. 

Liam shook his head vehemently. “I beg your pardon, please excuse my nonsensical rambling; the herbal fumes must have gotten to me,” he said quickly, covering his mouth as if to hide a yawn. 

Zayn was not fooled that easily though, identifying the gesture as an effort to end the conversation. Thinking it unwise to mention it, however, he resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t find out anything else on this occasion. Instead, he rose from the bed and turned to leave. Right at that moment, he desired nothing more than to be alone with his thoughts and to ponder why his heart hammered erratically and his cheeks burned as if they had been set alight by an invisible flame.

“Wait….” Liam’s hand closed around Zayn’s wrist. 

“What is it, my Khal?”

“Liam,” the Khal corrected with a thin smile.

“I just…,” he started, but broke off, letting go of Zayn’s arm. “You should go. My uncle and his men will be here before long to witness the miracle of my recovery for themselves.

As if to reinforce those words, Niall stuck his head through the entrance, signalling the impending arrival of Simon and his sentinels. Liam had already closed his eyes again, and Zayn ducked out of the tent where a visibly apprehensive Niall escorted him to safety.

Zayn’s desire to be by himself went unfulfilled due to his servant’s insistence not to let him out of his sight. From somewhere, he produced two plates of barley bread and cheese, which they both greedily tucked into.

“Will Liam be safe once we are married?” Zayn asked, ripping his crust into more manageable pieces. 

Niall raised an eyebrow. “You are not asking about yourself but are concerned instead about the Khal’s well being?”

Zayn shrugged, and Niall gave him the information he was looking for. 

“If harm should come to him before he is married,” Niall explained, “there would simply be a new selection tournament and James couldn’t take part because he has already proven himself to be second best. But if he died after, Simon could, as Liam’s closest family member, appoint a temporary Khal and when that happens, the temporary arrangement tends to become permanent.”

“Then why is Liam pressing for the marriage?”

“He wants to make a difference. The plan is to officially remove Simon from his position, as soon as Liam is fully instated.”

“In that case, let us pray that we all survive until that day comes,” Zayn said, raising his glass, dismissing the feeling of profound dread coursing through his veins.

*****  
The next day, the sun was high in the sky when they reached the outskirts of Vaes Dothrak. Although the Dothraki were essentially a nomadic tribe, they used this expansive city as their central meeting place where all trading was done and where the women and children waited for the return of their warriors.

This time, Zayn had been given his own horse, which, if he was honest with himself, hurt a little bit. Liam must have had a change of heart and decided that he didn’t want Zayn to be as physically close to him as he had been on the first ride. On the positive side, the agreeable mare made it easy for him to ride bareback, and he was grateful to whoever chose her. 

Niall drew his horse up next to him. “Our journey has nearly come to an end, my Prince,” he announced jovially. See those large stallion statues ahead? They mark the gateway to the only Dothraki city in existence.”

“What will happen when we arrive?” Zayn asked, not convinced that he truly wanted to know. His time with the Dothraki so far had been terrifying and fascinating in equal measure, and there was still ample opportunity for disaster to strike. 

Niall bit down on a smile. “You will be married to Liam in a rather drawn out ceremony and then you will… I suppose… consummate the union.” 

Zayn was not ready to have that conversation, neither could he bring himself to talk about the troublesome dreams that marred his sleep ever since he embarked on this journey, and so he mentioned something else that had bothered him just since that morning. 

“The soldiers have been giving me suspicious glances all day.”

Niall nodded solemnly. “They have seen that the gods favour you and Liam, and they are very curious about you now. Also, they are mightily disappointed that you didn’t provide them with the heinous show they had been expecting to see.”

“I shan’t be losing any sleep about that.”

“And right you are, my Prince,” Niall chuckled. “Besides, they are full of anticipation for the festivities later on. It is a spectacle for sure, and you will dislike some aspects of it,” he added more seriously.

Zayn hadn’t, up until then, given any more thought to his imminent nuptials, but now that Niall had brought up the topic, little flurries of anxiety started to flutter in his stomach. Fortunately, there was no chance to deliberate further because they had passed through the gateway and were riding along Vaes Dothrak’s grassy roads. 

The city was bigger than Zayn had expected. Most dwellings were crafted from woven grass, but there was an impressive pavilion carved from red stone in the distance. 

“Is that where the Khal lives?” Zayn asked.

“No, that is the residence of the Dosh Khaleen, the widows and widowers of the fallen Khals. They are worshipped, and their counsel is often sought in matters concerning the city,” Niall informed him. “You and Liam will occupy the house across from the pavilion,” he added, pointing out a generously sized mud-brick building.

They dismounted their horses in the market square which was teeming with women and children who gave Zayn curious looks. The riders shooed them away except for two young female slaves who were instructed to prepare him for the wedding. They smiled at him shyly, which led to a timely reminder just how primal the ways of these people were. Out of nowhere, Simon appeared, striking both girls brutally across the face.

“Let this be a lesson to you,” he barked. “The next time you behave in such a brazen manner, I will have you thrown to the wolves.”

The young women cowered, and Zayn wanted to come to their defence, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Niall putting his finger to his lips. It was astonishing how well the servant knew him already. 

Simon leant forward, putting his mouth close to Zayn’s ear. “Enjoy your day, sweet Prince… you never know what the future might bring.”

Zayn made up his mind to completely ignore the caustic taunts of the older man and focus on the impending celebration instead. 

This time around, the bath water was sprinkled with sweetly scented petals, leaving Zayn’s skin tingling pleasantly. His two aids bathed him efficiently before dressing him in white silk trousers and a white silk tunic, exquisitely embroidered with colourful symbols that meant nothing to him but looked beautiful.

Eventually, Niall escorted him to a huge square, where the feasting and dancing had already commenced. He took his place beside Liam on a makeshift dais made out of the same pillows that had been in his tent.

Zayn had thought Liam to be handsome from the moment he had set eyes on him but, looking at him now, he found him stunning. He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of leather trousers, adorned with an array of golden chains. 

“Have you fully regained your strength since the, um, accident at the ceremony?” Zayn asked the first thing that sprang to mind, endeavouring to hide how Liam’s appearance affected him. On further reflection, he might have chosen a less suggestive query. Ah, well.

“Yes, thank you, but do not worry; I will be able to carry out my marital duties without a problem,” Liam said, a playful smile on his lips, the same lush lips that Zayn was undeniably drawn to. He could do nothing to prevent the colour rushing to his face, which was most unbecoming for a Targaryen prince. To his great relief, Liam didn’t pursue the matter. 

“Has Niall told you anything about this?” Liam asked, making a sweeping hand movement.

“He mentioned that some things might be unpleasant,” Zayn conceded. 

“Niall is the master of the understatement. But he spoke the truth. Whatever happens, just smile, and don’t let the people see your displeasure.”

“He strikes me as more than a mere servant. I have never before encountered one who was so highly educated,” Zayn said, keen to avoid having to think about what he might have to witness. 

“We grew up together, learned to read and write together. Whenever the Dothraki horde plundered a settlement, the riders brought back books for him and he read them all. That is where he found out about the sour berries and, well, other things.”

Zayn didn’t get the chance to inquire what those other things were because a succession of soldiers passed them, kissing first Liam’s right and then Zayn’s left hand, which apparently sealed their union. After the last of the riders had paid their respects, the celebration unfolded in earnest. 

Slaves carried around platters laden with meat and fruit, while half-clothed women danced provocatively on low tables to the sound of drums and horns. Every so often, a rider dragged one of the dancers to her knees, shamelessly mounting her in front of everyone. When two men wanted the same woman, they drew their swords and fought to the death: apparently a normal occurrence at a Dothraki wedding. If there were not at least three casualties, it was not a successful event, according to Liam. God willing, Zayn hoped to persuade him to change some of these practices during his reign. 

Zayn was torn between shock and contempt. Despite the sweltering heat, he hugged himself, shivering. The incessant drumming caused a dull ache in is head, and he desperately wanted to drink some water but the servers insisted on providing him with fermented milk instead, the Dothraki alcohol of choice.

In the end, the entire day was a seemingly endless affair of eating, drinking, fighting and sex. 

Just when Zayn feared that he couldn’t take any more of it, the ceremony ended abruptly with a single clap of Liam’s hands. Within minutes, the people had dispersed, leaving the newly married couple to their own devices. 

Zayn let his gaze wander over the now deserted square. Discarded items of clothing, remnants of food and frequent blood puddles gave the impression of a battlefield rather than a joyous event. A wave of apprehension swept over him, which—enhanced by the thumping of the drums, still echoing in his head—made him nauseous.

Surely now the moment had come when Liam wanted to make Zayn his own. What if Zayn failed to please his new husband? What if he couldn’t satisfy him? His experience in these matters was limited. Would it be very painful? In the past, he had given and received pleasure with a few men back at Dragonstone, yet his body had never been penetrated. Surprisingly, though, excitement filled him at the thought of Liam’s touch. The feel and smell of his skin on that first day were forever etched into his memory. 

“Zayn… is something amiss?” 

Liam’s voice cut through his reverie, startling him a little. Could he be aware of Zayn’s insecurities, his aversion to some of the Dothraki traditions? He turned to his right, searching his husband’s face for clues, but all he could see was fierce pride, and so he resolved that it was not the right time to bring up his misgivings. 

“Everything is fine,” he said, smiling timidly, and prayed that it would be.

*****  
Liam had then stood up, taken Zayn’s hand and led him to the mud-brick building. After the short trip on foot, Zayn realised the house was not overly large but more substantial than he had imagined. Without preamble, they made their way to the bedroom where the majority of the space was dominated by a bed with an oak-carved frame, covered in the familiar fur throws and cushions. There was a large mosaic of coloured glass, portraying a gruesome war scene. Zayn found it strange that a chamber made for the purpose of love-making was so filled with an aura of violence. Unfortunately, knowing what he did of the Dothraki, this room had seen more fighting than loving.

Flickering torches lined the wall, illuminating Liam’s beautiful features as he stepped forward, smoothing his knuckle down Zayn’s cheek. The gesture was far from barbaric, yet somehow what he had already come to expect of his new life partner.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Liam said, softly.

Zayn was not afraid. He was the last male representative of House Targaryen, and he was ready to do what was necessary to right the wrongs that had been inflicted on his family—or so he was telling himself. In reality, his nerves were jittery, partly because he was about to lose his virginity but more so because he didn’t want to fail Liam, as a husband or as a lover. The truth was that, against all odds, he felt a deep bond with him. Zayn couldn’t explain what had made him fall in love with Liam, seeing that he always assumed romantic love required familiarity and time to blossom, but that was evidently a myth.

“You must have had lots of admirers before me,” Zayn said, making every effort to keep his voice steady. He meant paramours, of course, but he didn’t want to discomfit Liam. Though Zayn loved him (and half suspected the feeling was mutual), he wasn’t sure what his role in this relationship was to be—whether they were now equals, master and slave, or something in between.

“A fair few,” Liam conceded, “but none that reached my heart like you have.” He didn’t seem nervous, but Liam took time to visibly ground himself in the moment. While he did, he kept his gaze focused on Zayn’s face. After a minute or so, Liam’s stare grew heated, and he swept his eyes very deliberately down the front of Zayn’s body. His appreciation at the sight was evident. “May I see you? All of you?”

Zayn drew a shaky breath when Liam ran his hand gently down his neck and over his chest, first atop Zayn’s tunic and then underneath, walking his fingertips upward from Zayn’s waistband. It tickled and tantalised simultaneously, each press of Liam’s fingers leaving a warm, invisible print behind. While likely not intentional, it gave Zayn the feeling that his husband was laying claim to him one small patch at a time. Suddenly, Liam spread his sturdy hands over Zayn’s chest and stroked firmly from his breastbone out to either side and then up to his shoulders, giving the muscles there a gentle kneading before pushing Zayn’s elegant tunic up and off him.

He took his time undressing Zayn, lips brushing lightly against his skin as he unveiled it inch by inch. In stark contrast, it took Liam barely seconds to throw off his own trousers, revealing himself to be fully aroused. What Zayn saw in one moment he felt in the very next, as Liam wrapped a strong arm low around his waist and drew their abdomens together tightly. It was the closest embrace he had received from another man; Zayn’s prior partners had only been interested in touching body parts that would hasten their pleasure and showed no inclination to share affection before or after the event. 

That did not seem to be the case now. Tugging Zayn even closer, their naked chests in full contact, Liam did another thing Zayn hadn’t been anticipating: he kissed him full on the mouth. There was no hesitation in Liam’s advances, but they weren’t inappropriately forceful, and his kiss felt like the finest silk against Zayn’s lips. Overwhelmed with sudden arousal, he allowed the Khal to tilt his head this way and that, holding whichever angle pleased him for the moment only to become pliant again when Liam wanted access to his neck or jawline or ear.

“I am struggling to control my desire,” he groaned, returning his attention to Zayn’s mouth and brushing his lips lightly against Zayn’s before murmuring against them, “I want you, now.”

Zayn responded to the kiss briefly before he sighed and rotated so his back was to Liam, bending over and waiting (with a certain amount of dread but mostly curiosity) for his husband to claim what was rightfully his. But Liam did no such thing. Instead, he gently pulled Zayn up by his shoulders and turned him around.

Registering the shock and apprehension in his husband’s eyes, Liam hurried to give an explanation. “Remember I told you Niall read about other things?” he asked. “He told me of different ways to satisfy my needs. It is possible to share our passion, face to face; do you want to try?”

Zayn could only nod. He wanted to try anything that Liam had to offer, starting with the urgent manner in which his tongue explored Zayn’s mouth, now boldly demanding entrance where before his kisses had been fervent but chaste. The taste and feel of their tongues mating was so fascinating to Zayn, he hardly noticed the way Liam was manoeuvring him towards the bed until they were falling on top of it, and becoming a new creation with no boundaries between them, only magnetism and love. 

From the moment their bodies joined together as one, Zayn had no regrets. His husband seemed determined to fill the experience with tenderness, and because of the slowness with which Liam took him, there was minimal pain and maximal pleasure, ending in a place of complete bliss which he could never have imagined. 

Afterwards, when they lay together in their nest of fur, their skin slick with sweat, Zayn could not recall a time when he had been happier.

 

*****

Some hours later, Zayn woke from the pressure of a full bladder. He couldn’t recollect seeing a chamber pot and decided to go outside to relieve himself, inhaling some fresh night air at the same time. Next to him, Liam snored softly, his strong arms encompassing him as if he were his most valued possession. Zayn planted a kiss on his nose before extracting himself and sliding off the bed. After shrugging on his clothes, he crept out of the room, careful not to wake his husband.

As expected, the air was cool and crisp. Zayn decided to go a little further afield and take advantage of the tranquillity. At the edge of the city, he found a cluster of bushes, which suited his purpose. 

On his way back and deep in thought, reliving the magical events of his wedding night, he was alerted by loud noises and bright lights ahead. The frightened screams of men and horses alike reached him even before he was close enough to ascertain what the root of the panic was. He broke into a run, suddenly gripped by a feeling of abject trepidation. Somehow he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Liam was in grave danger and when he got nearer to their house, his worst fears were confirmed. The building was engulfed in flames, burning in a sea of yellow, red and orange. Chaos reigned as some of the soldiers led the rearing horses to safety, while others just stood and stared. Zayn was rooted to the spot, his breath coming in rapid, shallow bouts, fear threatening to push his mind into blackness. No - not Liam - not now. An existence without him was no longer conceivable for Zayn.

And then, something incredible occurred. A feeling of complete serenity spread through his body. He knew what he had to do, had never been more certain about anything; even if it was utter madness. Without giving himself permission to question his sanity, he took long strides towards the blazing building. 

Out of nowhere, Niall appeared by his side, horror contorting his face, “My Prince...Zayn...it is too late. You cannot help him; he is gone,” he pleaded, trying to stop Zayn by grabbing the sleeve of his tunic.

Zayn wordlessly swatted his hand away and proceeded to enter the inferno. With each step, he felt more like a butterfly struggling out of the constraints of its cocoon, to evolve into its true form. 

Once inside the bedchamber, he located Liam without delay. He had been overcome by the smoke in his sleep as he lay unconscious and covered in soot, but mercifully he was still alive. Zayn felt eerily calm even now. He climbed onto the bed, covering Liam’s body with his own. He had no understanding of why this was the right thing to do; he only knew that it was. As he watched the flames advancing rapidly and his skin blistering in the scorching heat; he realised in amazement that he didn’t experience any pain. Calling out Liam’s name one last time, he closed his eyes before his world descended into darkness. 

*****

When Zayn came to, the dull light of dawn fell on the scene of destruction. The Khal’s house had entirely burned to the ground, and Zayn’s garments had disintegrated, leaving the thin layer of dust the only thing covering his body. Astonishingly, he had sustained no injuries, and while he tried to grasp the meaning of this miracle, Liam started to stir beneath him. Zayn rolled off him and found that apart from a few superficial blemishes, he was also unharmed. 

They rose from the rubble, covering each other’s faces in tiny kisses, unable to grasp what had happened. After he reluctantly let go of Liam, Zayn glanced around, only to find that every man, woman and child knelt in front of the ruin, their heads bowed, softly chanting, “We are blessed. The last Dragonlord has risen.” 

“Zayn, my love, do you have an explanation for this?” Liam croaked, his voice still affected by the smoke inhalation. 

Zayn shook his head, and before he could say anything, he could hear Simon approaching, cursing profusely. 

“Sorcery - this is sorcery, “he screeched as he stormed through the mass of kneeling people. “Seize him; we cannot allow someone in our midst, who practices dark magic.”

His outburst had no effect on the riders and their families though, which seemed to infuriate him even more. His henchmen stepped forward but were held back by Liam’s personal guards. 

Just then, Niall joined them, placing a throw around Zayn’s naked body before turning to address Simon and James, who hovered behind his father.

“The Dothraki people are right; the rising of the last Dragonlord has come to pass exactly as the old prophecies have told.”

Zayn’s gaze flitted between Niall and Simon. He was being talked about, and he wanted to say something. There were words on the tip of his tongue that refused to be formulated. They were the same words that he had shouted over and over in his dreams recently. 

“Dragonlord? Niall that is absurd,” Zayn said instead, and looking at Liam’s dazed expression, he must have thought the same. 

Niall gave him a knowing smile. “It is the only plausible explanation, my Prince. Cast your mind back to the bowl of boiling soup. You should not have been able to touch the dish, let alone hold it in your hand, without hurting yourself. And now, you walk into fire and emerge unscathed. So, you tell me how absurd it is.”

“Lies lies…” Simon shouted, waving his fist in the air. ”Why should we believe such blather? The dragons have been gone for centuries. He is a warlock, in cahoots with evil forces and out to destroy the Dothraki people.”

At that moment, Zayn felt a shock wave surging through his veins, causing his vision to momentarily blur and his facial muscles to twitch uncontrollably. The seizure lasted but a minute, and when it subsided, he had absolute clarity about who and what he was.

Simon’s words had not fallen on deaf ears, however, judging by the string of anxious gasps rippling through the crowd. Some of the riders seemed to have doubts, contemplating to side with Liam’s uncle. But just as the tide threatened to turn against him, Zayn delivered his most compelling argument.

“I am Zayn Malik, Prince of House Targaryen and the last of the Dragonlords,” he declared with an authority in his voice, he didn’t know he possessed. “I was spared by the flames and able to protect the light of my life, your great Khal because fire cannot harm a dragon.”

The murmurs ceased instantly, shrouding the city in deathly silence. 

Simon sauntered closer. “I know what your plan is, sorcerer. You seek to trick my people into following you blindly on your quest to conquer all of the Seven Kingdoms,” he snarled. 

“Your people?” Zayn scoffed. “That is surely wishful thinking on your part. Is it not instead the truth, that you set fire to your nephew’s home in order to kill us both and install your son as the new Khal?”

A huge roar came up from the crowd, and it visibly unsettled Simon. His face, rigid with tension, belied his otherwise confident stance. Cold sweat glistened on his furrowed brows. 

“And he will be Khal. I did not endure years of indignity, pander to my brother’s every whim, just to fail at the last hurdle,” The older warrior spat, fixing Zayn with a hostile stare. 

Zayn was so preoccupied with the standoff, that he didn’t notice two of Simon’s henchmen edging towards where Liam stood. Much too late, he realised what was happening. One of the brawny guards restrained a courageously defiant Niall, the other one held a sword against Liam’s throat, pinning his arms behind his back.

For the second time that day, Zayn was faced with the possible demise of his beloved husband. But instead of the crippling terror, he felt the first time; it was a torrent of rage which reverberated through him. His head started throbbing and with every pulse, the words he struggled to find earlier were tumbling from his lips, initially as a whisper, then as an emphatic call.

“Drogon - Rhaegal - Viserion”

Upon hearing those names, the mood among the soldiers changed drastically. Liam’s captor lowered his knife, stepping aside, an expression of uncertainty on his face, and Niall managed to free himself as the rest of the riders looked around in confusion. 

Simon let out a howl of fury. “What is the matter with you cowards. Kill my nephew; kill him now; I demand it,” he shrieked, his eyes wild. 

Nobody paid him any attention though because the swooshing sound of enormous wings could be heard from above. 

As the noise grew louder, all of the Dothraki people, except for the soldiers, fled to their homes. Mothers tried frantically to shield their children from the advancing danger. The riders stood motionless, their eyes cast towards the early morning sky. 

Taking advantage of the distraction, Liam went to stand next to his husband. His complexion was still ashen, the bewilderment in his eyes replaced by unease. Zayn rested a hand on his arm. “Do not be alarmed, my love,” was all he could say to console him before the source of the hysteria became apparent.

Three majestic dragons broke through the clouds, swooping down and landing on the smouldering remains of the burnt out building. They looked striking with their large heads and huge, scale-covered bodies. The two smaller ones sat a short distance away from the gathering, their batlike wings folded at their sides. With a deafening roar, the biggest one came to rest behind Zayn and Liam, his long tail lashing from side to side. 

The fear among the riders was now palatable. Most of the men cowered on the ground, guarding their heads with their arms. Just the two soldiers, who had secured Zayn’s tent, stood proudly, if tense, attempting to protect Niall with their bodies. The young servant was surprisingly calm, considering the perilous situation. 

Zayn cupped Liam’s cheek, softly pressing their lips together in the hope to reassure him. Only then, did he turn to face the dragon. He stroked the beast almost lovingly between its amber eyes. 

“Drogon - you came. I do not pretend to understand why I suddenly feel like I’ve known of your and your brothers’ existence but I know that we are meant to do great things together.”

Drogon gave a low rumble, flaring his nostrils. He bowed his head as if in agreement with his master. 

With everyone watching fearfully, nobody saw that Simon had crept forward, pulling a small knife from his pocket and with a quick flick of his arm he sent it hurtling towards Liam. 

Zayn observed the flight of the weapon as if in slow motion and with all his might he gave the order.

“Dracarys” 

Zayn’s command pierced the morning air and before anyone could react, Drogon breathed a lance of flames which engulfed both Simon and his knife, leaving only a heap of ash and bones in its wake. 

The stunned silence that followed was interrupted by an anguished howl. James stood amidst his father’s remains, unconcealed hatred twisting his face. 

“I will kill you Dragonlord; if it’s the last thing I’ll do,” he wailed. 

Zayn did not feel any remorse. Simon got what he deserved, and the same fate would be bestowed on anyone who would pose a threat to Zayn or those he cared for. 

“If you try to kill me, it will be the last thing you do,” he stated. “But, even though you are nothing but vermin, I am going to show you mercy and let you leave, as long as you go immediately and never return. Otherwise, my dragons will not be pleased.”

As if to underline that threat, Drogon sent a plume of smoke towards the quivering man.

James looked like he wanted to say something else, but another low growl from Drogon changed his mind. Making spitting in the dirt his parting gesture, he scuttled away to the jeers of the Dothraki horde. 

Liam’s men crowded around their Khal to ascertain that he didn’t sustain any serious injuries. In the end, he had to fend them off and instruct them to start clearing the rubble. 

When the soldiers didn’t respond promptly, Zayn feared that the latest events had damaged Liam’s authority, but then he remembered the three immense creatures behind them. With a nod, Zayn beckoned the dragons to take to the skies before he pulled Liam into a fervent embrace, kissing him tenderly. For all he knew, it might have been entirely unacceptable to initiate such intimacy with the great Khal, but aside from showing Liam how grateful he was for his safety, Zayn needed a release for all the overwhelming emotions that had assaulted him in the last few hours.

“Well, that was most certainly a memorable morning,” Niall said cheerfully, a mischievous grin spreading across his face and Zayn was yet again amazed at the ability of the young man from the Reach to take everything in his stride. 

“There is still something I do not understand.” Zayn turned towards his servant without letting go of Liam. “I have been on this earth for twenty-two years and only now, during the most desperate moments of my life, do these powers become evident. That cannot be a coincidence.”

Niall considered his master’s words briefly. “No, it is not, my Prince. I have read about this but thought it to be a legend. The ancient books say that the Dragonlord will rise when he devotes his heart to another and is prepared to die for that love.”

Zayn nodded wistfully, turning his attention back to Liam. “Now it all becomes clear. I was hoping to tell you myself, but it appears that our young friend here has done it for me,” he said, raising his face to gaze into his husband’s eyes. “But in case there is doubt; I will say it again. I love you with every fibre of my being, Liam.”

“Zayn Malik, Prince of House Targaryen and Lord of the Dragons - I had almost declared myself to you when you visited my tent that night, but foolishly thought that it was hasty. And today, when I feared I might never get the chance, it ripped the soul from my body. I love you and will do so until I am gathered for the Starry Khalassar to ride across the sky,” Liam said, ghosting his lips across Zayn’s forehead. “But it saddens me to know that you will no longer require my help,” he added solemnly. 

“What are you talking about?” Zayn asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“Before all this, you were looking to me and my army for assistance - Now you no longer have any use for me.”

“You have never been more mistaken,” Zayn hadn’t considered that Liam could think himself inferior. “You are my husband, my Khal. I depend on you to for the breath in my lungs and the beating of my heart. You have your warriors, and I have my dragons. Together we will rule the Seven Kingdoms fairly and with kindness.”

To seal that promise, Zayn once again covered Liam’s lips with his, while the three mystical creatures circled overhead as a symbol of the triumphant times to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading :) x


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